


Confession

by lavlien



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 16:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavlien/pseuds/lavlien
Summary: Levi's life story from the very beginning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There are too many scenes of violence in this fic. Also it has underage rape. Please, don't read if you feel sick about it.  
> All thanks to my dear friend Sternenkind, she did (also she is still doing) a great job with the translation. Also thanks to my co-author Eirin Grin. This story would have never existed without her ideas.

Wonderful beginning, and you teach me,  
A knife in my hands, it will belong to thee,  
I'm yours, and you must love me,  
I know that you're evil, but I will be. ©

In spite of the daylight, the city was swallowed by the immense dark clouds, and heavy gray drops were monotonously drumming on the shiny roof surfaces. There was nobody in the street, everyone had scattered. An old bar, located in one of the farthest areas of the wall Maria, was filled up. Seasoned drunks and goners gathered there, wishing to make their lives easier by means of alcoholic oblivion. Moreover, the place was well-known as the nice brothel. Women of easy virtue, who could fit the taste of any pervert, walked around the building, offering their services in a very active way. The smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies soaked in every millimeter of space.

A door was opened and a shadow got inside: a tall man, wearing a long cape, whose face was covered with a hood, looked suspiciously and strange. He paced slowly like he was floating between the wooden tables. The stranger was interested in the secluded corner in the very end of the hall, hidden behind the faded curtains. A strong man's arm blocked the way, when he almost approached the point.

"It's not allowed", rough voice made the visitor to rise his head.  
The man, who blocked the way, was one head higher, but his suit didn't hide his large, beefy and trained body. Evil grin seemed to be stuck upon the face of the bouncer. The thug tightly clenched the edge of the cloth, closing the way to the inside.  
"I need Kenny the Ripper. We have an appointment."  
"Boss's out. He didn't leave special instructions", said the guard.  
"Ripper has said I can appeal to him whenever I need, if it's necessary to remove manure from the stables", the man said with hardly noticeable timidity.  
"Password right. Come in", the guard snorted, letting the visitor pass behind the curtain.  
The stranger slipped inside, removing the hood from the head. He had chiseled face features, a mane of dark hair and dark eyes, coloured like wet asphalt. He looked young enough, but he was in his early forties. The man stopped nearby the round table made of dark wood and looked at his new interlocutor.

"What brought you to me?", the man, sitting behind the table, rose his head and glanced, sidelong from under his black hat, over the stranger.  
"Business occurred. Need to get rid of one man."  
"The police have errand-boys. Anyone will do the dirty work for a couple of pennies", Kenny Ackerman, known as, anyway, just as Kenny the Ripper, was touching with fingers a thinck cigar, made of tough dark parchment. Brown eyes were looking at the stranger with interest.  
"I need someone, who doesn't disdain special work. I've heard, you can crack a hard nut."  
"Depends on remuneration", a smirk, a savage grin appeared on Ackerman's face. The face, what wasn't trustworthy, became scaring.  
The stranger pulled out of his cloak a hand and, with a light gesture of his arm, threw onto the table a small bag of raw cloth. It wasn't knotted tightly enough, so a couple of coins fell on the table, clinking quietly. Made of gold with a stamped image of Sina. The coins were shimmering in the light and sparkled attractively. Kenny's sight was so mean, and the eye's were glistening dangerously, when he glanced at the money.  
"Payment is accepted. So, who crossed you?"  
"I'll show. He's in my carriage. Nearby the back yard", the client said, but his confidence was fading away because of Ackerman's sight - the man frightened and suppressed.  
"So, let's see what troubles you", Kenny slapped client's shoulder. Friendly gesture, but the man had a heavy hand and an intense punch, so he made man bend a bit.

Ackerman, without waiting, went ahead first. He used to do everything at once. Though the work was disgusting, but it promised a big roll. Disgusting because Kenny didn't love so much the Military Police and he saw that peacock on the press pages as one of the most distinguished officers.

The murderer spitted on the asphalt, having come closer to the carriage. Black, without any decorations, driven by an old coachman. The man looked around, searching for a trick or an ambush, but everything was quiet. Kenny was holding his gun ready for a good measure, the fingers caressed the trigger lovingly.

Ripper pulled the door of the carriage and looked inside. He expected to see anything, but the scene, he had seen, made him rise an eyebrow in surprise. A boy. The small boy, with bounded hands and legs, was struggling to escape on the floor of the carriage. Thin and fragile, with fresh marks of beating on hid face - he didn't look like a terrible enemy, with whom the murderer had to deal with. The boy turned to the sound of the opening door and his sight met the sight of the mercenary. Piercing gray, almost white, eyes, filled with pain and tears, widened because of fear. Unless the gag in his mouth, he would scare the neighborhood with a scream.

Having heard rustling behind, Kenny turned. The customer stood in a short distance and he was attentively looking at them both. Apparently, this silent contemplation brought pleasure, and he enjoyed the opportunity to get rid of this kid.  
"It's a child", Kenny snorted, removing his hand from the revolver.  
"There is enough money for such a work".  
"Any suggestions how I shall do it?" the mercenary straightened his hat.  
"Doesn't matter. Just bump him off. No one will regret the rootless boy. Can problems occur?" the customer rose his head, looking at the murderer.  
"No. What did the chappie do?", Kenny asked, put on gloves and stepped into the carriage. The boy, who was rushing between seats, crept into a corner. He tried to scream, but only a muffled wheeze was heard from under the piece of cloth.  
"He was born", hissed the client, intently watching how Kenny knocked the boy down and threw the unconscious body upon his shoulder.  
Ackerman got out of the carriage and slowly headed towards the nearest alley.  
"How can I be sure that the work is done?" the customer stopped him on midway.  
"To be sure?" Ackerman grinned, "An arm, sent to the Military Police Headquarters, with a bow and with a notice about the recipient will be enough? "  
Kenny stared at the man, and it seemed funny to him. And it was good. Moral satisfaction because of man's face, distorted because of disgust and fear. Of course, he didn't need such evidence. Police always hide their dirt, and the boy was a sudden spot on the net uniform with unicorns.  
"So," the man nervously swallowed, "Just get rid of him, I don't need evidence", he turned and hurried backwards.  
Kenny lived so close to the bar: an old, inconspicuous house that successfully hid the experienced murderer year by year. Having waited for the moment, when the carriage disappeared, Ackerman took the boy more convenient and headed to the house. The boy on his shoulder woke up because of shake and started nervously twitching.  
"Hang still or I'll kill you on the spot", Kenny slapped boy's thin legs - bones, covered with skin, in fact. Actually, the boy wasn't fed well.

The boy obediently remained motionless. He didn't move, he didn't make a sound. He was hanging like a spineless doll. Kenny understood exactly that the boy knew about his fate. He knew that his attempts to escape were awkward and useless. He knew that the murderer would take his life immediately, whatever he did.

Ackerman's house consisted of only one room, kind of kitchen and restroom. Housing was almost empty: the minimum of furniture, bare gray walls.

It was cold and windy out there, his bed was carelessly made up, an empty glass and a bottle with some kind of slop remained on a table. Kenny stopped in the middle of the room and threw the boy on the floor. Trembling, he looked around, but then he rose and sat down against the wall. Tears flowed down his cheeks, dirty of mud. The boy was awfully terrified, but he was staring at his murderer.

Kenny crouched beside him and pulled a knife out of his pocket and began twirling it between fingers. He was examining boy's lean body, sharp bones, and blue veins, noticeable on thin fair skin. The boy looked pathetic and he was too young. Kenny would have bumped off anyone of ragged rabble, wandering down the street. But the boy didn't do anything wrong in his life. Except, how the client said, birth.

"So, what have I to do with you?"  
Kenny didn't like such murders. There was neither excitement nor adrenaline. Only a victim, trembling with fear, which seemed to have the will to get a knife on the inside.  
Time was passing by so slowly. A second was equal to an hour. The child tried to move away, but the man grabbed him by the scruff. Ackerman brought the blade of the knife to his dirty cheek and, surprisingly gently, without touching boy's skin, he cut the cloth, used as a gag. Gray eyes widened in amazement.  
"Can you cook and clean?", Kenny asked.  
No answer. The boy surprisingly looked at his non-murderer, not knowing what the man wanted from him.  
"What's your name?", Kenny had asked another question, but there was no answer again, and then he took boys chin, "Maybe you can't talk? Don't have a tongue?", he squeezed boy's lower jaw with two fingers and, pressing it, pulled the fingers to each other. Under their pressure, boy's lips and teeth unclenched, "No. In the place".  
Kenny was pulling boy's face from side to side, and then he brought the knife blade to his lips.  
"If you don't want to talk, so there's no use of your tongue", a grin appeared on Ackerman's face. He had guided the blade into boy's mouth and after that the boy just shook his head and murmured something, "So, are you going to speak?"  
Having waited for a couple of quick nods, Kenny let him go.  
"I ask, you answer. Right?", man's voice was strict and authoritative.  
"Ye...yes", the trembling voice sounded.  
"What's your name?", Kenny repeated his question, twirling the knife.  
"Lavlien", the child whispered, being afraid to look up at Ackerman.  
"Ugly name. Do you know why you are here?", Kenny had inquired and a couple of moments later the boy nodded, " What have you done? Who was that peacock?"  
The boy was silent. He looked down. It seemed that the conversation scared him even more that possible death. The child was trembling like a leaf in the wind. He was frightened to say something wrong.  
"I ask, you answer", Kenny hated disobedience, Kenny hated to repeat. Boy's behaviour was enraging him, "This is the order. Want to live - obey".  
"It was my father."  
"Wow", Kenny rose and got to his table, "How did you displease your daddy?"  
"He says I'm not like my brothers, not like him, that I am a disgrace to him, that I have another blood and that I'm spoiled", he said, forcing out every word. His speech was filled with pain and despair, unusual for a child. So small and already broken, Kenny noticed.  
It seemed that one moment later the tears, that had stopped falling down his cheeks, would pour again.  
"So, your father slept on a slut and made you? I have a jackpot today", Ackerman grinned, grabbing the half-empty bottle from the table. He took out the bottle cap and drank almost everything. The next day he would buy a new one for money he received for boy's "death" from that asshole, "Can you cook?"  
"No", the boy said timidly, rose his head, looking at the companion with a dismay.  
"You'll learn", the man started thinking, "From now your name is, maybe, Levi", Ackerman randomly shortened the name heard.  
"But I am..", the child attempted to object, but he paused, facing Ackerman's severe sight of brown eyes.  
"I didn't ask a question, it was an order", the stepped closer, "You are nothing. You are my own errand-boy,. My property. Are you not satisfied? Do you want me to fulfill daddy's order?" to be more convincing, he traced a semicircle around his own neck with the knife blade to show how he would deal with the naughty child.  
"I will do everything, don't kill me, please", the boy murmured, sobbing.  
He was staring at the murderer with hope like he didn't believe that there could have another chance.  
"If you try to escape, straight shot, and the first bullet will be between your eyes", Kenny released the prisoner, cut the ropes on his legs and arms, "Do you remember your name, bastard?"  
"Yes", Levi answered quietly, but there was less fear in his eyes. He rubbed his palms, leaning against the wall. Red traces remained on his wrists due to the rope.  
Kenny went closer to the wardrobe, which stood alone near the longest wall of the house, and a bit later, after having searched for something, he threw roughly a ragged piece of cloth towards boy's feet.  
"Water's in the bathroom. I detest dirty creatures", Ackerman had commanded, and then turned and got out of the house, locked the door, leaving new resident alone.

Levi found the strength to rise from the floor. Staggering, he wandered into the bathroom, where he found buckets with water. The boy moved one of them closer. Thin fingers grasped the iron handle and pulled up. The bucket was heavy and almost impossible to move for a child, but Levi coped with it and pulled the bucket away the rest. He didn't want to suddenly mix dirty water with clear.  
Levi frowned and bit his lips because water was so cold, trying to keep his scream, what wanted to get out of him. Ice was painful and bitterly cold for his bruised body. But Kenny clearly indicated that he wouldn't stand dirt. Thus, the boy had carefully washed his face and body with a cloth, and then put on his torn clothes. Levi came back into the room, crept to a corner and hugged his bony knees. He was trembling because of cold, thin rags weren't warm and he couldn't dare to take something that belonged to the owner. He was so afraid to enrage his murdered and savior.  
Kenny turned back only at night, when it was so dark outside. He opened the door, letting a cold wind get into the house, and looked around. The boy was still sitting in the corner with knees hugged.

"Don't you even know how do ignite the fireplace?", Ackerman was surprised. He got closer to the wide fireplace, the only source of warmth in the house. He did not spare the money for it. Levi glanced at him from under his long bangs in astonishment, "Right, you are a runt", the man grinned, taking a pack of matches from the top shelf of the fireplace.  
Ackerman burnt dry firewood in the depth of the hearth.The flames flared up immediately, illuminating the room with brightly.  
"Frozen over, you fool?" he grabbed Levi's wrist and put him up, like a trapped animal.

The child was weightless, it was possible to count each bone, and his thin skin turned blueish a bit due to cold. Kenny dragged him along and threw near the fireplace, like a sack. Ripper put out of his pocket a new pack of strong cigarettes and lightened one. The air was filled with smoke and the smell of burning tobacco. The man breathed out a light cloud and eyed the boy. He could barely understand why he didn't kill that useless sick creature. Ripper didn't feel pity or sympathy but something on the inside told him not to touch that child.  
Levi separated his lashes, covered with a light frost, and gazed at fire with admiration. The boy stretched his thin arms to the flames, warming frozen fingers. He moved with his whole body, but tried to be careful, and it seemed that he didn't want to burn himself or to exceed a limit of motions, known only by the owner of the house.

There was something different in this boy , he wasn't alike that bureaucratic suckers, who Ackerman had met previously. There was no composure in his moves, he didn't complain. But, perhaps, it could be only the very beginning.  
Kenny breathed out another cloud of smoke and extinguished a cigarette. He lied on the bed, without spreading it, and felt asleep almost in a moment.  
Morning came so quickly and suddenly for Levi by reason of a painful kick under his ribs. The boy bent down to the floor. He gingerly looked at Kenny with eyes full of tears.

"Get up, bastard, it's time to work", Ackerman commanded and headed to the kitchen area.  
Levi rose and followed him. The bruises still hurt and it got worse due to the last hit. Heavy boot left a huge bruise on his small body.  
It was warm in the kitchen in behalf of the burning stove, but very untidy. There were empty food cans, some waste. Nobody had cleaned the room and cooked here for a long time. Everything was covered with dirt and dust.  
"Tidy everything up right here and in the room"", Kenny caught Levi's hand and examined the fingers. Thin, calloused and scratched, "No problems will occur", he pushed his hand and opened a small locker. Ackerman put out small supplies of various provisions, "Have you seen how your mother or servants cook?"  
Levi stared at him in amazement, crumpling the cloth of the shirt between fingers, and hesitantly nodded.  
"Repeat what they have done. Don't fail. If you spoil the food, you will get nothing the whole week. I can't explain. Figure it out yourself."

When Kenny went out, the boy rushed to the window, in order to see how he hid behind the corner, straightening his hat. Levi mindlessly wandered into the kitchen. Parents often forced him to do some work around the house and that cleaning was not for the first one. But at that time everything was different, much warmer and tighter, and things were not so scattered around. Right at that very moment, cleaning up the stuff, a thought stroke Levi's head, that everything was just a lie and parents had never loved him but had to have patience to him. Was everything real at that very moment? Had the world always been like this? Dirty, rotten and cruel.

The boy cleaned things, carefully placed them on the shelves and dumped all the trash in one pile. Levi tried to do his best, and, not fear, but a desire to cheer Kenny up a bit forced him to do such a surprising thing. Cooking wasn't good enough: the brew tasted strangely, and Levi was sure that he would get in trouble for spoilage. He didn't know what to expect from Kenny and what would be the verdict. The boy scratched his knee with small nails, trying not to think about the possible punishment. Apparently, he would be beaten in the best case or killed in the worst.  
"Such a disgusting slop is good only for lousy dogs", Kenny said, eating the first spoonful of the concoction, "But for the first time is fine, you've deserved food, devour it".  
Levi rushed to the iron plate, like a hungry dog off the chain. He hadn't been treated well at home, so the boy thirstily grabbed the leftovers. But the words of the man cheered the boy up more, than the awaited food. Levi was happy because of his small victory.  
"Wash the dishes, I'm going to bed", added Kenny.

Levi couldn't sleep at that night. His slumber was interrupted when his hair was painfully grabbed and pulled. Strong arm, holding his long black strands, pulled him forward. Kenny was dragging Levi like a naughty kitten by the scruff. The child tried kicking, but it didn't practically work.

"I suppose I have said you, that everything must be absolutely cleaned", Ackerman growled angrily, pushing Levi's nose to the surface of the table.  
It was so painful, and the boy squinted due to fear, but it could be worse, unless he opened his eyes. Levi sobbed quietly, looking just into space in front of him. There was the butt of the cigarette that Ackerman had smoked recently, and some aches. It was such a little thing, but Levi had completely forgotten about it.  
"Do you, motherfucker, think that the life is so simple?", Kenny pressed Levi's head into the surface of the table, "When I come back, everything must shine."  
Ackerman released the boy, spitted thickly on the floor, and disappeared behind the door once again.

Gradually, Levi began accepting his situation. Sometimes Kenny could lose his temper and hit Levi, but maybe it was just realty, and people treat others so. Cuts and bruises had just faded away, but new appeared quickly. Chowder was getting better, and sometimes it could be edible enough. The boy was trying to do his best: he cleaned every day, and the room was almost flawless, and he was glad when he had an opportunity to cheer up his master a bit.

Nights were getting colder. The child rolled and pressed against the wall, but it didn't work. His old rags couldn't warm him and the floor was bitterly cold. Levi had no right to complain, he was silent, suffering. Ackerman pretended that he didn't notice anything. He was sleeping quietly in his bed, covered with a warm duvet. Sometimes he could wake up and glance at the boy. Somewhere deeply on the inside that people called as soul - but did the murderer have one? - he was a bit sorry. Unless Levi became ill, he would die from the cold during a very frosty night. The hearth was gradually fading away after it had turned midnight. Heath was dissipating with a draft.

Once Ackerman woke up because of strange noise. He unwillingly opened his eyes and listened to something. Levi froze up and his teeth were chattering.  
"Hey, runt", Ackerman called him, without turning to the child. He heard how the old rotten floor bowed down, when the boy rose, "A blanket's in the wardrobe, behind some old staff, find it."  
Levi was quiet, almost inaudible. He had opened the wide old wardrobe and a minute later after searching, put out a big bale with a duvet. It was heavy but the boy carried his burden directly to the Kenny's bed and put down near its head.

"I didn't ask you to bring it here. Unroll and lie down", Ackerman said, closing his eyes.  
Levi untied the bundle and spread the duvet on the floor. It was heavy, but thin, stuffed with God knew what. Levi wrapped in the duvet like in a cocoon, but it wasn't getting warmer. He squinted, trembling, and tried to fall asleep quickly. A couple of minutes later Kenny, who couldn't help it, swung his foot and kicked the roll on the floor.  
"Levi, lie down beside on the bed. Your shiver will awake a half of the whole block", Ackerman said grimly, and he could hardly believe that he had just said that.  
Kenny looked at him through half-open eyes: the boy was shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Finally, he got into the bed and the mattress didn't even bow down underneath his weight. Levi slid under the duvet without a sound, lying next to Kenny. His body felt the flow of cold and it seemed like an ice statute was put beside that had just been rescued from under miles of ice.  
The boy closed his eyes, facing the only Ackerman's pillow, and fell asleep almost in no time.

For some reason it turned calm. Kenny through the haze of sleep felt icy hands, that were, perhaps, reflexively embracing him. He wanted to push the insolent boy out of the bed, but stopped and made up his mind to leave everything until the morning.  
Levi had woken up much earlier than Kenny opened his eyes. He dodged away, hugging the wall. His hands still remembered such strange grasp. The boy carefully, quietly got off the bed and wandered to the kitchen.

After a few months Levi had already developed certain habits and one of them was to make a morning drink for Kenny for breakfast. The man called it "coffee". Levi poured some black powder with boiling water and watched how it became dark. He stooped above the cup, smelled the tart fragrance, warming the air cells.  
The bed bowed down in the room with creaking, and Levi hurried up to the room with the cup in hi hand, put it on the table and sat down in his corner.  
"Can you read?", Ackerman took a sip and opening the newspaper he brought last evening.  
"Yes, a bit", Levi said, licking his lips.  
"Read", the man threw the yellowed pages onto the floor near the feet of the boy.  
Levi grabbed the newspaper, scanning the unknown lines. He knew that letters - in the parental house he had been taught different things since his infancy, and reading was one of the basic skills. To tell the truth, a bit earlier before he was brought to Kenny, his parents had finished teaching him. And started beating. As the result he hadn't been holding any printed editions for a year. The boy was interested in what was written there and what kind of news spread around the city, his city.  
"Read aloud", Kenny ordered with an authoritative fashion.  
Levi looked at him, doubting, and sat down his knees more comfortable on the floor. He squeezed the pages, fingering the edge of the paper. The boy bite his lip and, signed nervously, began reading quietly.  
"The night before", his voice was shaking, "the dis-band-ment", Levi struggled a bit with the long word, but Kenny didn't scold him and Levi continued a little more confident, "of the fifty-ninth cadet corps occurred. Only ten people entered the Military Police and the rest", the boy was reading slowly but softly. At one moment he calmed down, thin hands were shaking. It seemed he was going to cry. Some photos were attached to the article and one of them was well-known.  
"Why are you silent, bastard?", Ackerman said sharply and scowled at the boy.  
"The text is over", thin fingers squeezed the page, the very spot of the printed photo".  
"Read the next article", Ackerman commanded.  
Levi turned the page and continued, occasionally glancing at the window. The snow was falling heavily and the night got much colder. Winter was possessing the city. Levi straightened out his rags.  
"Has it ever occurred to you to change the clothes? There's a lot of stuff in the wardrobe", Ackerman turned to the boy and caught the puzzled sight of his gray eyes," change your clothes, motherfucker. I allow you."

Kenny rose, put on his warm coat and went out, fading away like a dark shadow in the first pure white snow. Levi was looking trough the window for so long. The boy stared at big snowflakes, which were falling on the porch in a light whirling. The wind caught them and carried along. It was the first winter outside the walls of his home. It was cold and hungry, but such existence was better than being killed. And Levi realized it well. He bit his lips, squeezing the newspaper in his hand, and got closer to the fireplace and inflamed it. As soon as the fire grew strong, he threw the print to the fire. Levi was enchanted and he stared at how the flames devoured the yellow pages, eating labels and photos millimeter by millimeter. Too bad that it didn't work with memory.  
Kenny came back in the evening, letting the snow and light wind gusts get inside. The room had already become warm. Levi wasn't trembling due to cold. The clothes found in the closet were enough to wrap as in a cocoon from head to toe. It was good for an average man, not for a small child. The boy literally sunk in the clothes: the top shirt was hanging to the knees and the pants, tied over the top with a rope, too, but the garments were clean and not torn, like his old rags.

Ackerman brought a massive roll: a mattress, tied with a rope. Levi looked at him surprisingly, when the man unfastened the knot and unrolled the mattress on the floor near the fireplace. Old, shabby, with scuffing, but it seemed to be his own "bed".  
"After it has turned warm, bring it to your corner, and you know where to take the duvet", Ackerman was looking at Levi appraisingly, "You do look like a person, not like a sewer rat".  
That night was warm for Levi, and not only physically. Kenny left the logs in the fireplace to smolder until the morning, and the new, though tacky, bed was heated. The boy was so flattered because the man took carry of him. He didn't get used to it, because he was sure that he was just like a piece of furniture for him, like a chair or a bed. The mattress was inconvenient, but it saved from the cold floor. Levi rolled underneath the duvet, hugging his knees, and fell asleep.

Ackerman made the boy read almost every day. High pleasant voice filled the room with something homemade and warm. Levi tried to think about the meaning of the printed words, knowing that he should learn. And then he started the fire with that yellow pages in the morning. Only once he saved one tattered page, doubled it and hid under his mattress, being afraid that the master would notice. It was his little secret, known by no one.

Kenny was absent from dawn till night. Having returned, in the evening, he required a lot of food and cleanliness. There was no hint about his occupation and the boy wasn't particularly interested in it. Every day, he had to swab the house, which Kenny could turn into a pigsty in ten minutes, and launder his clothes. Levi became a laundress, a servant to run errands, which endowed only the bumps and scraps of food. It was not a lot, but enough to satisfy his hunger. Levi stayed silent. In addition to reading, the only phrases that to slipped off his tongue were: "Yes", "All right" and "Understood".

Everything was rather quiet.

Once the master came back in the middle of the day. Kenny's sight was unusually tired, irritated, danger and anger were lurking in the depth of his brown eyes. Despite the winter chill, Ripper wore a shirt and a black vest above, holding wrinkled cape. Levy was on all fours, clutching the wet rag, which he used to wash the floor. Having seen the master, the boy rose on his knees and looked questioningly at the man.

The door was shut noisily. Ackerman nervously threw his cape on the chair and removed the vest over the head.  
"Heat some water and wash the clothes off", Kenny spitted angrily on the floor and roughly threw his vest on the washed surface. Fingers furiously unbuttoned the dirty shirt, leaving new blood-red marks, "Finish washing afterwards".  
"Are you injured?", Levi asked timidly, rose and looked at the man. The red mess, which was alike blood, left a small mark on the floor.  
"I didn't permit to ask any questions. It seems to me that I have just given the order, bastard", Ackerman said in a harsh voice, removing the shirt.

Levi hurried up to the kitchen. He poured two buckets of water from the huge boilers and put them on the fire. It was luck that another half bucket of clean, warm water was left due to washing. The boy poured some water in a small tub, grab a bar of soap, and pulled it in the next room. Because of many moths of training he could manage with such work as pulling heavy things almost easily.  
Kenny was almost naked. He was smoking a strong cigar, his clothes were left near his feet. Levi put his basin near the wall and got closer. Man had strong body, well-trained one, almost completely covered with scars in some places. Levi was scared because of such view. Kenny wiped his hands covered with blood on his black legs, keeping silence. Levi quickly grabbed his clothes from under his feet and proceeded to wash.

Firstly the shirt became clean. A piece of good soap helped to wash it almost to whiteness. Fresh marks of blood faded away completely from the cloth. The boy was already happy, but his eyes widened in surprise, when the water turned bright red after he had put the vest under. His fingers turned red, when he started washing it. It seemed the cloth soaked blood and Kenny was injured.

Meanwhile, Ripper, having smoked his cigar, threw off the rest of his clothes and went to the bathroom.  
After he had washed the vest, the boy added it to the laundered shirt. He wasn't tall enough to hang the clothes on the rope for drying. Without rising, Levi crawled towards the left clothes, dragged Ackerman's pants closer and then tried to grab his cape. Heavy fabric noisily fell on the floor with buttons tinkling. A bundle of white material, stained with blood, fell out of his pocket.  
The boy yelled and hurriedly crawled to the wall. He looked with fear at the bag with bent human fingers sticking out.  
The door of the bathroom was opened abruptly and naked, slightly flushed from the water, Kenny got to the room. He briefly looked around the room, and then focused on the child.  
"I did not give the order to touch these things", Ackerman barked. An evil grin appeared on his face, "Are you afraid?"

The boy nodded nervously, being frightened to look at him. His sight was focused on that strange limb. Horror that bordered on interest.  
Kenny stepped to the bundle, put away the pieces of the fabric and lifted the stump of the hand covered with blood.  
"Do you know what is it?", the man asked, shaking the limb in front of Levi's face, "This is the thing what must have been remained from you, bastard", the man beat Levi in the face with all his strength, breaking his nose, "If your daddy was not so scrupulous, only the limb would be remained from you", Kenny beat him once again and lifted the boy, grabbing him by the scruff, "You're meat, Levi. A piece of selected meat, that I will execute at any moment. Just shoot or stab, like a sewer rat. Although, you are dumpling", Kenny unclenched his fingers and Levi fell down, facing the floor with broken nose, "Even if I take here thousands of corpses or torture someone, you will stay silent as a mouse. If you do something else, you will become a stiff too. Is everything clear?"

The boy was lying, afraid to move. It hurt and he was awfully terrified, like on the first day of their acquaintance. Blood mixed with tears and rolled down his face, spilling on the floor.  
"Have you understood, bastard?, Kenny asked again. The boy hardy nodded, " So now you will tidy everything up here and finish your washing. When I go out, everything must be clean", the man wrapped the cut wrist and put in the top drawer.

Only just after Kenny had gone to the bathroom, Levi rose a bit. He timidly touched his split lips with his tongue. Pain pierced the whole face. He touched his nose with trembling palm and looked at the blood, left on his fingers. No more tears remained. It could be that something had been broken except his nasal bones. Perhaps, Levi's face was nothing more that a beautiful bloody mess, but the only mirror was in the bathroom, so he couldn't examine the blows.

The boy crawled to the tub, leaving a trace of blood on the floor. His shirt was stained with blood too. His face burnt and the wounds hurt, and Levi wanted to cry and scream, but he was silent, knowing that he probably could be hit once again. He could only wait and hope that Ackerman wouldn't want to get rid of him for long.  
Years passed by. Levi became older, a bit stronger, and taller. His housework wasn't reduced and Kenny didn't become kinder. He came covered with blood from time to time, angry as hell, but, on occasion, in a good mood. He made the boy deal with some 'letterheads' from time to time, which he added to cut wrists. Legible handwriting neatly placed on the note. And eternal "K.A." at the end.

Levi missed fresh air so much. He often looked through the window, watching how the time passed by and the seasons changed. Sometimes he desperately wanted to ask a permission to go out, but he couldn't dare. The boy was afraid to say anything wrong. It was unlikely that Kenny would trust him enough to let him go out even for a moment.  
The sound of the broken glass woke them up late at night. Levi rose slowly, rubbing his eyes, without understanding what had happened. But Kenny was quick, a second later he was near the window, holding a gun - it seemed that he even slept with it. A small stone rubble appeared on the table, and a big hole gaped in the window.  
"Hey, asshole, are you there? Get ready for the bullet", laughing voice was heart from on the outside.

Many shots were heard after that. It seemed to Levi that thousands of people were firing in the street. The bullets were piercing the walls of the house and nothing remained of the glass. Kenny bent and, avoiding open spaces, returned to his bed. Ackerman kicked the ramshackle furniture away, abruptly picked up the floorboard with nails and pulled out of the store some pistols and a clip. Levi covered his ears with palms, trying not to hear that sharp sounds. he wasn't afraid. He had become accustomed to many things over the years, but it was the first firing. Some people would definitely kill, the boy was sure. The most important thing was to stay safe and sound.

"Hey, bastard", said Kenny to the boy, shooting a couple of times more, through the empty window frame.  
Levi took away his palms from the ears and surprisingly looked at master. It was difficult to understand what stroke his mind.  
"Protect yourself", Ackerman pulled to the boy a loaded gun, "Aim the house nearby. Pull the trigger to fire. If you shoot me, I will kill you on the spot".  
The boy nodded and took the gun without a thought. His hands were trembling, when he gripped the handle. He had never been held a weapon in his hands and never shot. But at that moment he had to protect himself, Levi realized it crystal clear, and Kenny trusted him. It said a lot. Some kind of strength and unwavering confidence were born on the inside. Levi crawled to the window and looked through the frame too. He saw them, who Ackerman was talking about, and put the muzzle to the wooden corner.

Kenny stood motionless, surprisingly looking at the boy, when he heard the first shot. The second and the third. Levi was shooting confidently, without any doubts, what was marvelously. He concentrated, tightened his lips, and pushed the trigger without a thought.  
"Don't waste all bullets. Shoot when you do see the aim", Kenny said and fired in the darkness.  
Levi obeyed and started shooting calmer, more concentrated. He squinted slightly, trying to see the enemy in the pitch darkness, and then shot. He hit the target a couple of times, and it rejoiced Ackerman.  
The enemy probably expected that he could take Ackerman by surprise, moreover, alone. It seemed that the enemy decided to escape and the gun fires slowly but surely subsided. Kenny put away his gun and listened. Somewhere on the other side he heard groans and lamentations. The wounded were apparently left to die. The man turned to Levi, still tightly gripping both hands on the gun.  
"Attaboy, Levi", Ackerman said.

Such words were like a thunderbolt bolt from the blue. But it wasn't blue. The skies had been riddled with lots of lead bullets a couple of minutes before. There apparently were some dead people on the inside of the house. Someone could be killed by Levi. But... Why he didn't regret anything? Perhaps, that men wanted to injure Kenny, and the boy, despite the fear, firmly attached to the man.  
"We had to leave. Quick as possible, collect your stuff", Kenny said, opening the doors of the wardrobe. He threw out a fabric on the floor and wrapped weapons.  
Levi had nothing that belonged to him, just...  
"What is this?", Ackerman asked, noticing something in Levi's wrist.  
"A newspaper", the boy got out at last, when Ackerman took away a piece of paper."  
"What for? Dates, schemes, animals? What for do you need this shit?"  
"This is a release from the twenty-fifth of December" Levi said nervously, feeling how angry Ackerman was, "My birthday".

"Bastard!", the man slapped Levi's face and rattled him, "You keep a bullshit to remember when that bitch has produced you? You're out of your fucking mind! You are nothing and you don't have the date of birth", Kenny threw the paper to the smoldering logs in the fireplace, "You were born twice, and you must kneel before me because I haven't stubbed you, but instead of this you keep that birthrate when you have been spitted out the peacock's whore", it wasn't a good moment argue, so Kenny snorted angrily, letting the child go, "Get dressed faster and get out".  
Levi was hurt due to his words. It was better if he continued beating him, but stayed silent. But the boy obediently put on his cape and its hood, and left the house with the man. He had nowhere to go and no reason too. Fresh air hit his nostrils, almost intoxicating, filled his throat with pleasant warmth. Levi looked around. He had been watching nature through the window for five years. The summer air was pleasantly warm, and the darkness of the night hid from prying eyes. Their way was very short. After a few minutes they were in the bar, where it all had begun. Levi didn't remember that place, and he quietly entered Kenny's territory behind the curtain.

"There's a bench. Lie down. Stay silent", Ackerman commanded, putting the guns on the table, and sat down on a chair.  
Levi obediently rolled on the wooden bench and faced the wall. But he couldn't fall asleep. Thousands of thought were swarming in the dark head: "what would happen to him", "would he stay alive", "would Kenny be busy over him, when there was no accommodation". But there was something more important: it was the first time when Ackerman praised Levi. Kenny said "attaboy". It definitely was the beginning of something new.


End file.
